Fall Away
by Shamefaced Shambles
Summary: You fall away from your past, but it's following you.  Prussia/Italy Hope you enjoy c:


A/N: Okay people, I've been out of fanfiction for a while now but I got the idea for this fanfiction and couldn't resist :) (I will get back to the requests I promise). Anyway this is a Prussia/Italy, but it is an AU so they will be referred to their human names only.

Italy has also been made female in this fic so rather than Feliciano it will be Felicia (with a c sound not a ch sound).

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, nor am I making a profit from this fiction. I merely writing fro my amusement and the amusement of others.

Okay that's it I think :L Enjoy people.

Fall Away

There was something sickening about the sheer drabness of the room one Gilbert Beillshmidt found himself in. The room was simple, Spartan in it's furnishings, with a simple metal-framed bunk with thin mattresses that were littered with protruding springs ready to burst from their material tomb. A simple desk that stood on uneven legs, a small weak looking chair that shook whenever someone sat upon it. The only source of the light was a small uncovered light bulb that hung from the ceiling, clinging to it desperately whilst it flickered in and out of life.

The room was disgusting.

Gilbert found himself on the bottom bunk, the springs digging painfully into his back as he lay there with a cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. 'If mustard gas* or bullets weren't the death of me, then my addiction sure as hell will be.' Gilbert mused. His crimson eyes narrowed on the bulking frame of his brother, who currently sat on the unstable chair, hunched over the desk a standard fountain pen gripped tightly in his hand as he wrote continuously.

"Ludwig," The only indication that the blonde heard him was a slight nod of the head, "Who are you writing to?" Gilbert removed the cigarette from his mouth, flicking smouldering ash on the grey floor as he rose from his lounging position. Sick of the sharp stabbing to his back.

Ludwig also rose, stretching himself from his hunched position, rolling his shoulders under the heavy black jacket he wore. He pivoted the chair and faced Gilbert, his baby blue eyes scanning his brother's face. "Felicia." Was all the blonde man said before he pivoted back to his letter.

He missed the amused twitch of his brothers lips as the name was mentioned, Gilbert could not recall how his brother met the Italian girl he had yet to meet but the exchange of letters had become a regular occurrence between the two. Gilbert would often tease and snicker over his brothers obvious infatuation with the girl.

All traces of amusement was erased from his face when a knock echoed through the small room, Ludwig rose from the desk and stalked over to the door. The pathetic pine door swung to reveal a similarly pathetic man, whose spindly limbs were still visible under the bulky tan coat he wore. He saluted, fingers trembling in fear as his eyes flickered to the unamused face of Gilbert and the frighteningly serious gaze of Ludwig.

"Sir," his voice trembled, coughing over his embarrassment, "We're needed on the field." Ludwig at an instant tensed and nodded his head marginally, giving leave to the trembling solider. The solider swiftly turned and strode down the hall, quicker than necessary. Ludwig turned to Gilbert his eyes suddenly heavy with tiredness. Gilbert stood and shrugged on his black coat, the red smear of hatred painting his arm. He grimaced, gripping his brothers arm shaking it slightly in encouragement.

"Time to go kiddo." and with that Gilbert straightened his back and left the room. Ludwig placed his hat over slicked back blonde hair, the rim shadowing his intense blue eyes, and followed his brother.

It was quick. Too quick for Gilbert's mind to recall. It was a flurry of exploding fire, whizzing shells and screeching sirens. Mud that squelched under the feet flew in the air like swallows as grenades impacted the ground with an unforgiving harshness.

And it was because of that that Gilbert sat where he was now. From one drab room to another.

He sat on a rickety wooden chair that, like many other objects in the ward, had seen better days. His eyes were dark with worry and stress as they traced the fragile outline of his almost motionless brother on the metal framed cot.

His brow was furrowed, the crease between his eyebrows heavily pronounced. His lip was bloody, from both worry and battle. Never had he seen his strong and proud brother so fragile looking. His little brother, whom he vowed to protect with his life.

One eye covered by a off coloured dressing, a small crimson patch staining the material. A stray piece of shrapnel had found it's way into Ludwig's left eye. Doctors said it was unlikely that he would be able to see from the eye ever again. The very idea made Gilbert flinch unpleasantly, his insides squirming, twisting into tight knots. He had never felt so sick in his life.

It was a few days later that Ludwig stirred, Gilbert's head had been lolling with exhaustion when a low grumble made it's way from Ludwig's chest. Gilbert's head snapped up in an instant, his eyes following the slight flickering in his brothers uncovered eyelid. His eyes slowly opened, sliding painfully slowly over to Gilbert.

Gilbert smiled, happy to see his brother awake. Happy to see his brother _alive_. Ludwig's face was pale, his eyes slightly panicked. Gilbert felt a tightening in his throat as he watched his brother, he grabbed his shoulders, tightening his hold to bring Ludwig's attention to him. Gilbert could see the big question in Ludwig's eye.

_Why can't I see?_

Gilbert swallowed, the sensation unpleasant in his constricted throat. "Ludwig, bruder,". Ludwig heaved a breath, his chest expanding before seemingly sinking into itself. "The explosion, some shrapnel. It flew into your eye." Gilbert took a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself and failing.

"Doctors say that you'll probably never see out of your left eye again." Gilbert looked away, looking at the still forms of the dead, and in his mind, the lucky ones.

"We've been given leave, for two months."

The platform had few occupants, many finding no reason to travel from their safe homes. Gilbert and Ludwig stood side by side, a heavy drizzle of rain pelting against leathers coats. The few occupants of the platform looked reproachfully in their direction. Some fear filled eyes flickered to them.

Gilbert scoffed, even if they were Jews he and Ludwig wouldn't do anything. They weren't soldiers by choice, only their grandfather's previous military stance and conscription kept them in line. Gilbert pivoted his body to his right, staring up at his brothers face. Scanning his features quickly for any signs of pain. His eyes traced the jagged scar that ran from just above his brothers eyebrow to just under his lower lid. One blue eye clouded in a sightless gaze whilst another vivid ocean blue eye stared at the rusting iron rails.

Ludwig had discarded the dressing as soon as Doctor's claimed it to be appropriate. It was a sign of his brothers pride. Never would he wear a covering over a battle scar, it was inappropriate to his masculinity.

Gilbert's hand swiftly whipped into his pocket, his hand curling towards a pocket sized engraved tin. Withdrawing it from his pocket he glanced at the engraved cursive script, _Gilbert Beillshmidt_, simple yet affective. If the tin was ever to leave his pocket against his better judgement then at the very least it would be easier to track. He flicked the tin open, a dozen perfectly hand rolled cigarettes rolled in the spacious compartment, a small folded and rumpled piece of paper laying innocently in the corner. A leather clad hand plucked a cigarette from the tin before snapping it shut and replacing it in his pocket.

A simple box of matches were then withdrew, a match quickly taken from it's cardboard cell and ignited with swift professionalism. It lit the cigarette that hung from Gilbert's mouth and was then snuffed before thrown to the ground. Abandoned, no longer useful to it's purpose. At this point Ludwig was staring at his brother, or more specifically he cigarette, in disgust.

"You will kill yourself, bruder."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and insolently blew smoke into his brothers face, smirking as Ludwig's expression scrunched in distaste. Gilbert chuckled.

"Yes, yes I know. No need to lecture me." Gilbert waved his hand dismissively, Ludwig sighed.

"So. . ." began Gilbert with ease, "Where are we going? I assume you have somewhere in mind." Ludwig looked at his brother, before nodding.

"Tuscany." He didn't elaborate, but Gilbert instantly caught on.

His ever present smirk widened until he bared teeth, it was a distorted grin almost jagged in appearance.

"Ah, reuniting with your Italian love bird are we? Oh young love, how sweet." Gilbert snickered at his own joke. Ludwig, if he were a lesser man, would have blushed but his eyebrow merely twitched in discomfort.

"Bastard." grumbled Ludwig, "You know it's not like that." Ludwig stared intently at the tracks, refusing to meet the snickering eyes of his brother.

"Ah, but you want it to be." Gilbert subtly poked his brother in the ribs just under folded arms. Ludwig tensed under the intrusive finger but otherwise remained silent, clearly stating to Gilbert to 'Shut up, before I do something rash like push you onto the tracks.'

Gilbert just grinned.

It was a further twenty minutes according to Ludwig's ever present pocket watch before the train arrived. The train was black with a vibrant red rim, steam puffed from a small chimney in the drivers cabin.

It had been years since Gilbert had been on a train, and despite his collected appearance his stomach filled with a child like anticipation. He stepped into the empty cabin, following his brother as he manoeuvred through empty seats and sat gracefully into a secluded table at the very corner of the cabin. Gilbert, ever the graceful one, plopped himself down across from his brother his back slouching into the padded seats of the train. Ludwig removed his hat seating it in the seat next to him. Their luggage was carefully placed on the overhead storage compartment.

Gilbert glanced out the window, trees the colour of spilled blood and exploding shells swung unsteadily in the autumn breeze. His eyes lazily traced the landscape as the train slowly began it's long journey.

His head lay in his gloved hand, slouched forward in boredom. The childish anticipation was gone as he realized that train journeys weren't spectacular bursts of speed and freedom. Once again Ludwig was writing. Other passengers, few of them as they were, sat in varying states of consciousness. One woman lay against the padded chair, bedraggled and exhausted looking. Her eyes closed, her lips pursed and eyebrows drawn. Another man sat ram rod straight, his eyes concealed by the newspaper he read, yet Gilbert had the distinct feeling that the man was watching him.

His eyes turned away from the cabin and he arched his back in his seat, before settling back into the uncomfortably warm seat and shutting his eyes. It wasn't long before he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Ludwig scanned the letter in his hands, it was from Felicia. The writing was somewhat scribbled, legible but only just. The train rocked back and forth rather unpleasantly and Ludwig had to control his stomach. He glanced from the letter to his slumbering brother. His head lolled to the side and was jarred roughly whenever the train rocked, it made Ludwig wince knowing that his brother will be none to happy with the pain in his neck.

The pain in his brother's neck was ultimately going to become a pain in his own. Ludwig pinched the space between his eyebrows as he closed his eyes, resting them. It was a long trip to Tuscany. An image of Felicia flashed through his head.

The long trip would be worth it.

Gilbert was startled from his sleep a few hours later by a large hand shaking his shoulder roughly. He opened his eyes groggily, the grit of sleep crusting his eyes and the bright afternoon sunlight of Italy scorched his retinas. Gilbert grimaced at the abrasive light and the crick in his neck. Rubbing his eyes as he straightened from his hunched position against the window pane.

Gilbert stood, rolling his shoulders and suppressing a yawn from escaping his throat. He glanced quickly at his brother who had already heaved both of their cases from the overhead compartment. He nodded before grabbing the handle to his battered but beloved case and following his brother into the blistering sun.

Gilbert grimaced as the full impact of the harsh rays hit his eyes, placing his hat in a way to block the sun from entering his eyes he turned to his brother.

"So how will we find her?" His voice was raspy from sleep, sounding like it was scraped along the jagged surface of gravel before escaping his throat.

Ludwig's right eye flickered to Gilbert's face before returning to it's search for a familiar curl. He pulled out a small, monochrome picture of a smiling girl with a very distinguished curl. He handed it over to Gilbert, Gilbert scanned the picture. "Just look for the curl, we'll be sure to find her." Gilbert handed the picture back and smirked.

"She's pretty cute Luddy." Ludwig scowled ferociously, snatching the picture from his brother's hand.

"You will not lay a hand on her bruder." His response rumbled from the pit of his chest, if Ludwig wasn't his brother he would be terrified.

Gilbert raised his hands in a show of peace, still smirking at his brother in amusement.

"I was joking Ludwig, calm yourself." Ludwig shook his head still and stalked off in search for Felicia.

Gilbert, still stewing in the success of once again flustering his brother, strolled off rather aimlessly despite his goal of finding Felicia. His strolling led him quickly to a small plaza close to the station, a small fountain, or rather pool, sat in the centre of the plaza. With children splashing innocently in the water. Blissfully ignorant of tragedy and horror miles away from their peaceful home town.

Gilbert strode through the plaza leisurely before his eye caught sight of two lumbering men and a strangely familiar bouncing curl. He quickly altered his direction towards the men, stopping slightly away to listen in.

Her eyes nervously switched between one man to the other, both wore similar clothes. Starchy off-white shirts with brown suspenders, with black slacks that were frayed and had obviously seen better days. Her grip on the brown paper bag tightened ever so slightly, the paper crinkling loudly as she shifted.

Their eyes followed her movement, the slight shifting of her breasts as she moved her arms in a protective stance around her body. She didn't like how the smirked at her, it made her feel like the predators prey.

One man finally leaned forward, his eyes raking over her body lecherously, leaving an invisible trail behind. She tensed, she never liked confrontation. Her tongue darted from her mouth with the speed of an attacking snake, wetting her dry quivering lips.

"So how 'bout it? Can we get you a drink?"

She opened her mouth to refuse, yet again, but both she and her tormentors were interrupted by a leather clad hand thumping against the broad shoulder of the man. She could see irritation fly through the man's eyes as he straightened from his slouching position and stood to his full height.

However when he turned around his stance seemed to deflate, his once puffed out chest sinking as his breath was expelled from his body in a harsh gust. Felicia took a quick glance around the still figure to look at her saviour. What was meant to be a glance turned into a full out stare, as her eyes widened in surprise.

Stood there was a man with white hair and red eyes, never had she seen anyone with such features. His face was serious, his eyes almost cat like as he gazed at the two men in front of him. His stature was lesser of the two men, but it was his presence. It was impossible to miss him. But that wasn't what had the men scared, Felicia knew that.

It was his clothes, black leather lay on his shoulders, the vibrant red band around his forearm was unmistakable.

This man was a Nazi.

Gilbert stood a meter away from the two men and the woman, his eyes peering intently at the scene. He could see the tightness in the woman's frame, he could see her nervous shuffling. And he could definitely see the men's leering. Gilbert is hardly chivalrous, it just wasn't him. But that didn't mean he wouldn't step in when a woman was so clearly distressed.

He strode over, just in time to hear the hunched over man's offer to a drink. His hand clasped on the man's shoulder, claw like as he dug his fingers into shirt covered beefy flesh. The man turned, and Gilbert could sense the man's irritation and arrogance. The arrogance however was soon drifting away as he saw whom interrupted his pathetic 'flirtation'.

He internally smirked, keeping his face straight and serious, imitating his brother greatly. Not showing expression threatened many, it made people believe he was inhuman. And inhuman things could do great and terrible things to humans.

"Is there a problem here boys?" his greatly German accented Italian made the men tense, Gilbert's Italian could hardly be called perfect, it was somewhat broken and shaky. It was obvious it wasn't his mother tongue. The two men shook their heads, the Adam's apple of the more audacious one bounced from the reflexive swallow of fear.

"No . . . sir" His eyes looked towards his companion, whom nodded before slowly backing away. The other grimaced before nodding his head towards Gilbert in respect his eyes travelling towards the woman once again before stalking off.

Gilbert turned to the woman tipping his hat slightly, smirking in triumph. "Gilbert Beillshmidt at your service." Recognition flashed in the woman's eyes. A huge grin stretched her face, small dimples forming on her cheeks.

"Beillshmidt! You must be Ludwig's older brother!" She spoke in German, greatly shocking Gilbert before his mind clicked. Recognizing the curl from the photograph.

His smirk formed into a grin, "Ah! You must be Felicia then," he jokingly slid into a bow, taking hold of one of her petite hands and bringing it to her lips. "It's a pleasure"

He chuckled, rising to his full form once again. He motioned with his hand to follow him, "Let's go find Luddy then."

Ah yes Notes: (*1) The mustard gas reference, I realise that by the second world war that gas masks were in circulation so death by mustard gas was unlikely, but there was always the slight chance of being caught of guard so -le shrug- I put mustard gas in there.

I was going to make this a one-shot but to be honest I really want to post this as a chaptered fic, it's a lot bigger than I thought and I'm rather eager to hear the response :)

There's a lot more where this came from, I'm at this moment writing the next chapter ;D

So I hope you guys enjoyed this and I would love to hear your opinions.

/I feel like this will be one of my best fics :L

And Kate, even though I haven't added any more on, enjoy reading this chapter again XD


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